"cleverness" poems
At school I had trouble socializing,
And still, The Owl, comes all too late?
My formative years are spent deep within caves searching,
Yet The Owl is never found there?
The failures and sadness accumulate over time,
Leaving The Owl traversing some other’s sky,
I feel life slipping away each day,
And still The Owl never manifests!
Where is The Owl? Does it not come with time?
Will cleverness induce her, perhaps woo her with rhyme?
Quell restless mind, The Owl reforge me so I’m freed!
Grant me your talons so that I may succeed!
And still, The Owl, who never manifests,
And still The Owl never manifests.
I curl chalky fingers into travertine-grip,
Aged ruin takes a hold, in my despair as I slip,
Sans which The Owl never did manifest,
To wit, sans The Owl, pounding sand as I jest,
So what, The Owl, never did manifest?
And still The Owl never manifests.
Life without The Owl, was no life at all,
No solemnity of greatness, a life of doltish pit-fall.
And still The Owl never manifests.
And still The Owl never manifests.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 8:02 AM UTC
In a field of red roses by the lake,
A white rose calls up to the sun
With her beautiful petal scarf
And her cheerful smile
Over another field, a tulip stands sad
He is one in the crowd, no one special
“Smart,” some say, “too shy” others may
But he struggles, moving his cheek
The tulip looks at the ethereal rose every day
Wondering how such a flower grew from the floor
An angel’s tears of joy, he might think
A kiss from Gaia, he would have hoped
Tulip doesn’t know much of the rose
And fears never being able to embrace her
He feels that both have too much in common
But his inner parasites would hurt her
For a majestic rose that dances with the moon in the water
Such normal tulip will never have a chance
Her perfect stem is made of silk
His is damaged and made of paper
Still, the tulip dreams
Wishing one day to fly, as his roots would rip
Detaching from the floor, from his forlorn life
Flying towards the star reflected in the lake, where his solitude would end
The white rose doesn’t realize, still
How much he admires her strength, cleverness, and beauty
Until the tulip sends his seeds of love
In the form of this poem and painting
For a more radiant future he fights
Forever aligned with the Astraea of his heart
Because she glows in the night
Inspiring him to be better
And even if the rose doesn’t recognize the tulip
She should know that he is right there
In an everyday battle to talk to her
He is smart and shy, but eager to give all his petals to see her smiling for him
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 8:14 AM UTC
entice me with your language
not your body but your soul
****** me with your words
sounds of trumpets as a whole
words, rolling off your tongue like Dew on blades of grass
not the typical talk and whispers of your amazing ***
challenge me and contradict
please lets keep this real
do not agree on everything
nevertheless of how you feel
see your mind is what is left, and ultimately the hook
lets talk of music, art and good times past and maybe even a book
****** me with your cleverness
caress me with your wit
to hear such entrancing thoughts has left me quite a bit - entangled in your uneasy tone, but frazzled evermore
completely distraught on how you taught me to leave things at the door
make love to my deepest thoughts, delusions, and desires
for that excites me more than all the daring red hot fires
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
When the last spark of wonder fades
from the eyes of our young
when we decide to live in a blase' Universe
only then are we lost, only then
have we ceased to find our North Star
and we become refugees
while sitting in out own homes
Trying to rekindle our flame, that old spirit
but alas we lack the spark
Ingenuity has died, cleverness lies withered
Renaissance will not come
for wonder has perished and us along with it
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
smile…… Manipulate…..complements ...... Manipulate……act interested……manipulate…..show some tears….. manipulate…….white lies….manipulate…..it’s a drug, to manipulate….flirt and manipulate…. escape pain or consequence…manipulate …..socially acceptable to manipulate…to get what you deserve…manipulate….to get what you want….manipulate……to change some one’s mind manipulate…..to be successful manipulate …..O i hate manipulation! i rather have paid every speeding ticket, stood in every long line, gone to jail, paid more than full price for everything, not got the job and been broke…..never been kissed…failed at everything….then to have ever manipulated in my life! O God i hate manipulation and it’s subtleness.. a quiet vice…a secret soul killer…. Call it what you will….swag….cleverness….success…..it doesn’t matter manipulation wears any Word you choose…it’s all self-centered…. me me me me me….. hehehehe…..stop!!!!…. Manipulation must die! Especially in its most subtle and acceptable forms. Even if i have to struggle…even if i lose everything…it must die…”those who save there live will lose it, those lose their lives will find it…………Christ guide me
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
a hand puppet
unable to put up a fight
the hand goes crazy –
excuse me if i’m clumsy
remember the other months
a december that closed its mouth
cleverness (that’s what moves me)
we new ones are out in the cold
lint resembles snow to me
clinging to your eyelash why haven’t i
been able to see which of us is right
let’s repeat it before i forget
that people die in every season
watch the roses fade
2.8k
Suppose I was more agreeable
Instead of arguing over coffee about politics, religion
*All those subjects deemed taboo that neither of us truly give a **** about*
Pressing my point like daggers against your ribcage
Knowing the sweet spots that make you moan
I would give in, applaud your cleverness, then leave for work
You would be left wondering if you should feel insulted.
of course you should
As usual,my filterless memoirs have become vocalized
******* them back in tight and quick is useless
Once freed, the damage is done
But. they. are . just. words.
the previous statement is ridiculous and the author should be shot
Never could I slice you deeper, **** your private mind or lay your soul bare
Then with the bitter, caustic, truthful edge of my observations
You are just as vulnerable as the rest of them
Barbed wire telegrams
Frozen emails
Ash and arsenic letters
Cut you to the quick
Delightful.
But I like it better when I can witness the damage
Basking in the upper handed afterglow of my superior ability to mortally wound
For no bit of silver that I've ever found
Was ever sharper than the razor edge of my tongue
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
Every day I see this guy pass by my door,
he never steps off the path.
His hair speaks of his woe.
His steel eyes arrange the sky into a box,
the blue is not enough to keep him idle,
he requires the chains of logic.
It keeps him grounded when he could be flying.
“Why should I fly,” he says,
“It’s much too cold for me anyway.”
“Wear a jacket” I might declare.
He would reply, “I don’t wish to sweat through
my sensible clothes.”
(Only twenty dollars on sale.)
He is much too sensible to be any fun,
but fun is not all there is.
“There is science” he would suggest
If we ever were to talk,
I know he would be an excellent conversationalist
His dusty shoes tell of his wariness,
His jacket of his adventures.
(He keeps dust on his clothes to speak for his cleverness.)
“Conversation is for the simple-minded,” he would say.
“I prefer books,” would be my reply.
He would have nothing to say then,
(He doesn’t like conversation anyway.)
but he’d be too logical to let me know
Of his human blunder and illogical flash.
So he spoke to me of his action figure collection.
(“Most extensive, I’m sure”)
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
You found me.
You're so clever,
You're so mysterious,
So cunning and coy.
You hide and sneak,
Laugh and giggle.
You grin with knowledge
And my lack thereof.
But I have the real secret,
I'm sly and crafty,
Sneaky and hidden
In my openness and observations.
More so because my secrets,
stay secret...
I know you better
Than you may believe.
I love you more
Than you can understand.
So I will stay hidden
In my open observations.
I will stay and silent
My crafty cleverness.
I want to be a secret.
You are my secret.
I'll be your's.
You found me.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
At the world’s edge,
Upon a steep ledge,
I must ask the everchanging blue:
Why must I fall in love with them?
Whereupon, I break bread
With my enemies
I must ask the everchanging red:
Why must I fall in love with them?
Again, and again,
It is a dinner that ever ends
It’s the common place of disaster
A comedy of manners
Drenched in sinister designs
Beyond the grinds
Of my understanding
Of the world
It’s the Theatre of the Deranged
Laughter
So much laughter
And I don’t know what they’re after
I’m the jester
Without a wry disguise
Cleverness beneath comedic idiocy
I’m the fool
In this Theatre of the Deranged
Discussions at a lopsided table
Where only those who obey the master
May talk – all else must listen
To her, to her, to her!
Gorged on foods
I never wanted
There is nothing sweet
Left for me to eat
Mouth sealed shut
Except to laugh
But there’s nothing funny
When you’re the joke
That’s gone on too long
But the party is far from over
When you’re the court jester
To the Queen who rules the world
To the King who rules the world
To the Jack who rules the world
To the Ace who rules the world
To the suit who rules the world
To the world who rules the world
To the monarchs who uphold
The declarations of entertainment
And attend the gathering
At the edge of the world
Adorned with velvet curtains
And velvet lies
In a swirling and everchanging
Red and blue
Known only as
The Theatre of the Deranged
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
In their perceived cleverness
Women ultimately ruin everything great in this world.
They claim that men are responsible for the ills of this world,
When in fact, women are the root of all turmoil on this earth.
In their perceived cleverness, they assume men are too stupid
To read the writing on the wall,
When most men are all too aware
Of the miniscule amount of regard, they have for us.
Were it not for the necessity of the womb,
For the propagation of the species,
the wholesale slaughter of these petty creatures
Would solve the majority of problems
Plagueing this earth.
The vast majority of negative technological advances
Stem from the female need to make things more convenient for themselves,
While men, bear the predominant portion of the burden
Of maintaining civilization,
Dying by the thousands at war,
breaking their backs in harsh labor,
and never receiving due respect from women.
Its no wonder misogynist ideals are spreading.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
"I am sorry. I don't want to be an emperor, that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible. Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness; not each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and a good Earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut our selfs in; machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think to much and feel to little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions sires out the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair". The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines, you are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty. In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written: "the kingdom of God is within man". Not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you. You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work,that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They don't fulfill that promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world were science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!"
~Charlie Chaplin
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
What is originality anymore?
The pop songs we listen to day in day out,
That are only updated remixes of
Songs that our parents
Already know every lyric to.
Is it the pranks we play on each other at school,
Poking holes in the top of water bottles,
So we don’t get caught when we try to catch our class mates.
Drowning them
In carbonated energy drinks.
Don’t think you’ll get away with it.
The teachers already know,
About flicking elastic bands at the backs of girls knees,
So they scream a little louder
And turn around to see
Boys smirking faces,
Because they have been there before.
Define originality.
Originality
. /əˌrɪdʒɪˈnalɪti/
noun
1. the ability to think independently and creatively.
•the quality of being novel or unusual
synonyms: inventiveness, creativeness, creativity, innovativeness, innovation, novelty, freshness, newness, imagination, break with tradition, resourcefulness, cleverness, daring, individuality, unusualness, unprecedentedness, uniqueness, distinctiveness
.
Is it smuggling ***** in water bottles,
Or sneaking down to the back garden
To have one last cigarette with your friends,
At 1am
On New Years
When you have had more to drink than your parents
Yet you are only 15.
Watering down whiskey from your parents liqueur cabinet
With apple juice.
Getting caught drunk
After being out with friends, Stumbling in at 2am
On Sunday morning.
Storming up to your room
After having a row with your parents.
Slamming the door,
Screaming at the floor,
Calling a friend,
And ******** about the people who brought you into this world.
Maybe
I’m not as good with words
Than I thought I was
O r i g i n a l i t y I s D e a d
Your parents Grandparents
Aunties and uncles
Have seen it all before
It’s a fact of growing up
And one day
You will too know
Exactly how it is
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
*Winter, tricky entrapper,
cozy cuddler, night fiddler
nuzzler, tantalizer, whistler
sharp nailed cruel lover
seasonal unfailing seductress,
sprawling on the bed cloth of December,
rolling over a few months either side,
I would never take her for granted.
I see her peep through
the window curtains,
spying at the warm days eyeing me
and waiting for her to climb down the steps;
she is jealous, as she wants to linger
playfully riding on my back.
she seeped in to my blood stream,
like the narcotic effect of grass,
before I know it happens
little by little to make me
forget my other loves completely
even without my permission.
Her wiliness is stealthily at work,
to monopolize me fully
separating me from others
yes, winter is cleverness clad in white.
Now, I am at her mercy, completely
my fingers, chest and lips strangely
enjoy the cold caresses, she gives each!
I realize, she has taken over-
my body and paints my mind's canvas,
with bubbling hallucinatory white,
she wants others tightly on her leash,
my other loves complain:
"you act just what is her will
you always wear her fragrance,
on you what an influence she wields!"
can I help when winter my darling,
brooks no excuses!
She exposes me before others
I look like a pusillanimous one,
cowering and cringing before her
none, even my true love, has
such absolute control over me
like she exerts, it's a secret
but true that I wriggle to get out,
of this white net she tenderly knitted-
for my comfort, which is,
pleasurable I think, to an extent,
yet difficult to accept at the same time.
Let us part before long, not to make
our relationship much complicated,
I'll wait, till the next season arrives
you are in my list of periodic partners,
I'll be ready with warmth in my heart,
for your eventful visit, that leaves
an impression far too long to ever forget.*
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC
mischief and such wit
moony, wormtail, padfoot, prongs
they're the marauders
and when the job's done
wave your wand and just say this
'mischief managed!' done
cleverness present
but wasted on breaking rules
yet used for the fun
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
"I am sorry. I don't want to be an emperor, that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible. Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness; not each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and a good Earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut our selfs in; machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think to much and feel to little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions sires out the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair". The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines, you are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty. In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written: "the kingdom of God is within man". Not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you. You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work,that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They don't fulfill that promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world were science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!" ~Charlie Chaplin
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Beavers trolley snow for built dams.
Cleverness in their small minds,
Everyone has a place in the workshop,
Where wood is transferred as paper binds.
Keep on ice fishing
Until the sunsets winter red
And turns to twilight blue.
Snowmen sled nocturnal nights instead.
Owls give a hoot for the racket
Outside a gleam to keep on building,
Keep on building snowmen until frost covers wool jackets...
Keep on building snowmen until you know the beavers finished the dams...
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
"I don't want you to think I'm racist. I love black people! I just hate *******
Now, you will not believe how many people have said this to my face.
That they smile, thinking themselves so eloquent and clever,
Illustrates a problem to me much larger than the hatred of a race.
My tongue stays. I wouldn't want my "angry ****** to show her teeth.
She would ask if the color or the speech or the level of poverty made the black,
Or the ****** or the ***** or the **** or monkey or beast.
She may be eloquent and clever herself, but those white ears would never hear that.
We are conditioned to be blind and deaf and loudly ignorant to reality.
The rich and powerful have made us starkly numb to our own folly and pride,
So that we may believe ourselves to be indignant most righteously,
While we unconsciously hate all that is different, opposed, other, outside.
But I will be the same human with all my eloquence and cleverness, pride and folly,
Whether I am seen as "black" or ****** or maybe simply just "Cydney"
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
Start with dirt.
Trap a bird for a loving heart.
Wrap it in a rose so she can have thorns to protect it.
Add iron for a good backbone.
Teach her with chalk for righteousness.
Shake in some cinnamon for *****
Melt chocolate for patience.
Add driftwood for wanderlust.
Build in her a door for loyalty.
Fill with coffee for curiosity.
Gift her a doll for kindness.
Put a book for cleverness.
Mold her a wind for empathy.
Fit her for glasses for self-control.
Stir in orange for dancing.
Stir in green for singing.
Stir in blue for crying.
Stir in red for screaming.
Stir in purple for thinking.
Give her words for pain.
Give her music for joy.
Give her darkness for fear.
Give her stars for rage.
Mold her.
Form her.
Love her.
Then give her a breath, for life.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
*****
Twirling like the devil's baton
a cyclic cul de sac
'round the positronic menagerie,
speared from stem to stern, floor to ceiling,
arched bowed bent backs saddled ridden tools
adolescent ne'er-do-wells and prepubescent fools
all desiring to sit nowhere but by me,
by me, by me-
My friend of cosmic dawn, take my hand and
traipse like a runner in a blind alley.
Lead me to my quiet stead, walk and stamp about,
my cloven-hoofed associate, sarcastically devout,
and show me that everything in this whole world
is presented via legerdemain, deceitful cleverness,
but it cannot cure my lightheadedness, felt by me,
by me, by me...
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 1:02 PM UTC
Fatigue is setting in giving my affect a kind of relaxed
hereness, because there is very little energy for anything else
Tomorrow remains a mystery, but there will be a battle, I know
the forces will arrive, armed with ipads or paper or their phones
and their judgemental brains of varying sizes and capacities
I am tired, and I need to avoid the unecessary confrontation and most
especially desist from worrying about anything that isn't happening in the moment
the battery is low, I have no grenades only a small shield and that's
not really enough to battle with, and really, I've always been out armed
and totally outnumbered and overpowered and yet somehow I'm still here
through sheer cleverness. But I make mistakes and there is so little power left now at
the end that I must be shrewd and watch them like a lioness watching a herd of gazelles
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
I look at you with child like wonder
Beholding beauty and I ponder
Is this just lust for whom is yonder?
Is my heart true and my soul fonder?
You are beautiful outwardly
And even more that I can see
Your inner good and purity
With you I'd spend eternity
The blazing beauty of your face.
Lights every dim and dreary place.
A feeling that I must embrace.
A feeling fine, like fancy lace.
I know that you are very bright
A very radiant kind of light
Surrounds you whether day or night
You have a second, deeper sight
You have a caring, tender heart
A loving soul and for your part
Give to others from the start.
A way from darkness, you can chart.
Your intelligence does far exceed
The average persons average need
And for you, naught can impead
Your souls desire to succeed
Determination, that I admire.
Your cleverness sets me afire
I do not want a pet or liar
My need for you is truly dire
I'd give anything to be more near.
To you, my most beloved, dear.
But what it is that I do fear,
As sometimes I do shed a tear.
That you and I must never be.
It would not be good for thee.
I am old, your twenty-three
And death will surely come for me.
And so for you, that I wish too,
I pray you'll find, one who loves you
And holds, as I, a love that's true.
And some day say to you "I do."
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
I'm a fox walking around a loaded gun.
I stare into your cold eyes,
And I don't know when to run,
As I stare into my own demise.
I'm a fox waiting around a loaded gun,
Being mocked for my cleverness and wit,
And I'm desperately trying to run,
But I can't plan the timing of it.
I'm a fox running around a loaded gun,
Didn't mean to get myself into this trick,
And as I begin to run,
I hear the gun click.
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 8:10 PM UTC